


Taking Care

by Jestana



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 00:05:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jestana/pseuds/Jestana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Commissioner has news for the Bat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Care

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not quite sure where this came from. Just a thought that occurred to me while driving to or from work (can't remember which now, lol) and it developed into this. Though the 'verse is the Nolan movies, it's set several years afterwards and assumes a certain event from the comics took place in the intervening time. No beta.

**Taking Care**

He didn't turn on the lights when he got home. There wasn't a point anymore. As the day cooled and afternoon turned to evening then full night, he sat in the silent darkness, alone. Then a familiar sound and sensation intruded. His voice flat, he announced, "We're a perfect pair: you dress like a bat and now I'm as blind as one."

"I'm sorry." The guttural rasp was familiar and comforting to his ears.

Jim Gordon shook his head, not even bothering to try to look in the direction the voice came from. "Don't be. It's not your fault." His mouth twisted into a wry smile under the mustache. "I can't shoot you on sight now even if I wanted."

"Your men still can," Batman's rasp was tinged with the same gallows humor.

The smile left the ex-commissioner's face, guilt threatening to swamp him once again as he remembered the incident that had led to the diagnosis. "They're not my men anymore. Not after I shot Myers."

"It was an accident." He nearly jumped out of his skin when a gloved hand rested on his shoulder. "At least it wasn't fatal."

He sighed heavily, reaching up to cover the gauntleted hand with his own. "I'm not even going to ask how you know that already."

"You know I have my sources," Batman reminded him, gently withdrawing his hand.

Jim let his hand drop to his lap. "Exactly why I'm not going to ask."

"What are you going to do now?" He was surprised the other man hadn't left yet. Batman rarely did social calls.

Rather than question the change in behavior, Gordon went with it, grateful for the vigilante's calm, practical response after a day of pity from everyone else. "I already turned in my badge and gun. Aside from that, I have no idea."

"Have you eaten?" The question came after a long silence during which he'd begun to wonder if Batman had left.

He was so surprised by the seeming non-sequitur that he turned his head in the direction the voice had come from. "What?"

"You know: food? We need it to survive." There was actually a hint of amusement in the gruff voice. "Have you had any since you got home?"

Jim shook his head, wondering when they'd entered the twilight zone. "No, I didn't feel like eating when I got home."

"I thought as much, so I brought you something." He felt a paper-wrapped package press against his hand and automatically accepted it.

Turning it over in his hands, he realized the package was a sandwich. "Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me." The amusement was back in Batman's voice. "Someone needs to take care of you if you won't take care of yourself."

Even as he unwrapped the sandwich, he asked, "Can't a man wallow in self-pity?"

"Not if it endangers your life." The amusement was gone, replaced by a hint of anger. "Have you contacted your family yet?"

The ex-commissioner only started eating because he didn't want a perfectly good sandwich to go to waste. He was surprised to note that it was his favorite: ham and cheese on wheat bread with mustard and mayonnaise. "The kids are too busy with their lives to drop everything just to come look after their old man."

"You'd be surprised." The next moment, his sense of Batman's presence was gone, though he'd heard nothing to indicate that the man had left.

Sighing, he finished the sandwich and went to bed. He didn't think he'd sleep, but he could at least rest. The next thing he knew, he was awakened by the sound of the bedroom door opening. Still half-asleep, he reached into his bedside table for the gun he'd turned in the previous day. Opening his eyes, he peered at the strange blur of the intruder. "Who's there?"

"Sorry, Dad, I didn't mean to wake you." His daughter sounded truly apologetic as she wheeled closer. "I heard about what happened and came as soon as I could."

That's why her blur had confused him: she was in her wheelchair. He relaxed and shifted into a sitting position with a sigh. "What news did you hear?"

"That one of your men had been shot and you'd retired because of it." She reached the side of the bed and picked up his hand to wrap it around a mug. A deep breath informed him that it was full of coffee. She knew him well. "Though how those two are connected, I have no idea."

Cradling the mug between his hands, he took a large gulp. How was he to tell her the truth? After a short internal debate, he decided to give it to her straight. "I shot him." Barbara gasped, but said nothing. "My eyesight's been going bad for awhile now, even with my glasses, but I wouldn't admit it to myself. Then I shot one of my own men instead of the suspect and I _had_ to have my eyes checked." He lifted his eyes to gaze at the blur he knew was his daughter. "I'm legally blind. Glasses will help, but it would still be dangerous for me to continue as the commissioner, so I retired after the doctor examined me."

"I'm sorry, Dad." Much to his relief, there was no pity in his daughter's voice, only sympathy. She knew the decision to retire would have been a difficult one for him to make. He'd dedicated his life to protecting Gotham and her citizens. Now his failing body made it impossible to do that any longer.

When she shifted her weight from the chair to the bed and wrapped her arms around him in a hug, he gladly returned it. _Batman was right about her. I'll have to thank him for that..._

"I'll stay and help you adjust," she told him, settling next to him so he could continue drinking his coffee. "It's only fair since _you_ helped _me_ after I was shot."

Smiling, he brushed a kiss against her hair. "Thank you."

"I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too, Babs."

  
**End**   



End file.
